Afterglow
by LadyHeatherlly
Summary: In a swiftly changing world that views the ancient traditions with the utmost suspicion, Balinor and Hunith honor the rites of Beltane in a much more private celebration.


**Title:** Afterglow  
**Category:** Het (Canon)  
**Characters/Pairings:** Balinor/Hunith  
**Rating/Warnings:** T  
**Summary:** In a swiftly changing world that views the ancient traditions with the utmost suspicion, Balinor and Hunith honor the rites of Beltane in a much more private celebration.

**Author's Note**: This is a combination of two of our Valentine's Day challenges at The Heart of Camelot, featuring a "first time" between a couple, and a story based on a song. This one was inspired by "Afterglow" by INXS.

* * *

**Afterglow**

The first of May dawned cool and clear, opening with a gentle spring morning that melted seamlessly into the much more vibrant beauty of a bright summer day. Life was everywhere, from the lush green grass beneath the young woman's bare feet, to the air she breathed into her lungs, warm and heady, practically crackling with restless energy.

This had always been Hunith's favorite season, those fleeting weeks when the earth seemed more alive than at any other time of year. Nestled just between the shy awakening of springtime and the lazy complacency of late summer lay the full fruits of rebirth... a world having recently come into its own, eager to share all the fresh delights it had to offer.

She likened the emergence of summer to herself this year, for while she was a woman grown, her relative youth meant she'd only just begun to scratch the surface of her full potential. Indeed, in an uncanny similarity to the beginning of May itself, Hunith was imbued with all the breathless excitement of newfound maturity, anxious to reveal herself in ways she didn't fully understand.

Somehow, that lack of comprehension made it all the more thrilling to feel the way she did: eager... yearning... **alive**.

And there was something deeper at play... a newly realized truth which undoubtedly contributed to Hunith's sharp awareness of the rich possibility that spread out before her hungry senses like some sumptuous banquet she'd only ever read about in storybooks. It was in the imagined taste of a ripe strawberry she held to her lips, savoring the mere idea of its sweetness... only to learn that it was sweeter still when she relished her first taste. Every emotion, even the tiniest sensations filled her with a sense of wonder, for as she'd recently discovered with no small amount of delight, the fanciful imaginings of girlhood didn't hold a candle to the reality of falling in love.

But as was true with even the clearest of summer days, a sudden storm could appear out of nowhere, crushing warm sunlight beneath the weight of dismal gray clouds.

Those clouds were Balinor's face when Hunith walked through the door, a pensive, melancholy expression which caused her mood to immediately shift from quiet exhilaration to guilty concern. She'd seen it coming for days now, the culmination of the unspoken sorrow he tried desperately to hide whenever she glanced in his direction. More than that, she knew the reason behind it... and that was why her own enjoyment of the day filled her with sudden remorse, even though that was the last thing he would have ever wanted.

Today was Beltane. Perhaps it was merely another beautiful day to her, but from the perspective of a man who had the gift of magic, lived and breathed it with every fiber of his being, how could this be anything other than a day of mourning?

Balinor thought she didn't understand. That much was obvious in the way he brushed aside her sympathetic questions with a gentle smile and an insistence of, "it's nothing."

Because it _wasn't_ nothing. It was **everything**, and she _saw_ that far more than he would have ever believed she did. He showed her the truth of what the destruction of his world meant to him in every word and gesture, but more importantly in all the things that remained unspoken. Perhaps Hunith couldn't truly fathom what it was like to possess his gifts, but she certainly knew what it was like to experience grief, to feel a deep sense of loss for something that seemed forever beyond her reach.

Out of all the venerated holidays belonging to the Old Religion, Hunith imagined Beltane must be the most difficult to sacrifice. Beltane was about life, fertility, rebirth, hope and new beginnings, the very essence of the cycles that defined magic for what it was. It was the time of year for those who were most intimately connected with the earth to embrace that bond, to join themselves with the elements which marked their very existence, and to offer tribute in the most natural, unfettered expressions of passion they were capable of producing. To be deprived of something that must have felt downright instinctual couldn't result in anything other than persistent pain... a hollowed out feeling, like the socket of a missing tooth that continuously ached simply because _something more was supposed to be there._

She _did_ understand in her own way, but how to express that to Balinor? He, and perhaps all those with the gift of magic, held themselves separate when it came to the deepest, most fundamental truths of life, as if they carried secrets that were incomprehensible to ordinary folk. They couldn't seem to see that the connections which bound magical and non-magical people alike were strong in their own right, perhaps even comparable with the sheer force that tethered them to the earth itself.

But she knew there was no use in trying to explain her feelings on the matter, for he'd probably just smile in that kind, indulgent way of his... as if he were a soldier patiently listening to a small boy as the child lifted a sword and proclaimed himself ready to ride out and face his enemies. Balinor would put up a valiant effort to disguise his true thoughts, but she'd read them in his eyes nonetheless - 'I admire your efforts, but you can't possibly comprehend the reality I claim as my own. There's simply too much you cannot see, too much you've never experienced firsthand. No, you don't understand, nor would I ever expect you to.'

And so Hunith elected for silence instead, preparing their dinner as if everything were normal, then pretending not to notice when Balinor only picked at his food. He'd stare out the window and let out a heavy sigh, only to catch himself and flash a weak smile in her direction whenever he sensed her watching him.

It was only when the sun began to set that he finally surrendered to the truth behind his quiet sorrow.

"It's time to light the fires," he said softly, not looking at her as he spoke. "At least, it would have been in years past."

"I know."

"Beltane was always a rite of passage, you know. It's a time for celebration, renewal, new beginnings."

"I know that, too," she said gently.

"The earth turns in cycles. Winter gives way to spring, spring grows into summer, summer melts away at autumn's touch... this is the way it's been since the dawning of time. For those of us with magic, it is much the same. We... we cannot relinquish our past, our present, without opening ourselves up to our future. But how can we do that when our rituals have been stripped away, when we cannot come together and seek the surrender that is necessary to clear the path for what lies ahead in the years to come?"

"I think I have the answer," Hunith whispered.

Balinor stared at her in surprise as she rose to her feet and began to light the fires... not the mighty bonfires of Beltane proper, but a dozen candles she placed strategically around their tiny home. She blushed as a faint memory came back to her then, a vision of her mother shifting uncomfortably as she cautioned a much younger Hunith never to enter the woods on the night of Beltane.

Being the inquisitive child she was, Hunith had naturally disobeyed the order, sneaking out late one night as the fires roared and the sounds of jubilant celebration filled the air. She'd never been reckless by nature; it was merely impossible to believe that any event where the participants sounded so _happy_ could carry any threat of danger.

She hadn't needed to go far... no more than a few dozen paces into the forest had brought her to a clearing where a pair of naked bodies had lain entwined in the soft grass, oblivious to her presence as they'd moved together in the darkness. A flurry of noises had reached her ears, confusing and even a little alarming at the time, gasps and moans she'd later come to recognize as sounds of unhindered passion.

Making love, she understood now, was the the very essence of Beltane, for that most instinctual of joinings was the deepest celebration of new beginnings, fertility, joy and life renewed. And that was one ritual that had nothing to do with the gift of magic. No, it was bigger than that.

And so she gave herself to Balinor that night, despite the fact that they'd only ever shared a few hesitant kisses before she took him to her bed. She surrendered herself in his arms, quickly silencing any weak protests... flimsy arguments that melted away beneath the truth of the love that existed between them. Honor, chivalry, the future he may or may not be able to offer... what did that matter, when this fleeting moment in time was so utterly, indescribably _perfect_?

When their passion was finally spent, seeming to dwindle from a roaring bonfire to the gentle flickering of a lone candle, they remained locked in a comfortable embrace, each smiling gently as they gazed at one another in quiet awe. Hunith reached up to touch his face, her fingers still trembling ever so slightly as she smoothed sweat dampened tendrils of hair away from his forehead. She stared deeply into his eyes then, searching almost desperately for the answer to a question she didn't quite know how to voice aloud.

Her heart filled with joy as she saw it reflected back at her. Yes, there it was - that unmistakable rush of emotion which had overtaken her senses, making her feel as if she'd crossed over some invisible threshold, undefined until this very moment, yet somehow crucially important to everything she'd been, was, and ever would be.

For between Hunith and Balinor lay the strongest magic of all... a love so powerful that it would one day give birth to a legend.


End file.
